


Ring of Fire

by elementalv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: help_japan, Female!Castiel - Freeform, Genderfuck, gay!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-18
Updated: 2011-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Dean decided Cassie wasn’t going to die a virgin, not if he could help it, was also the night he finally admitted he wasn’t quite as bent as he thought he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring of Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EllieMurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/gifts).



> A while back, I offered up fiction for [](http://help-japan.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**help_japan**](http://help-japan.dreamwidth.org/) , and [EllieMurasaki](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/) won one of my offerings. She requested a follow-up to [Nights With Dark Satin](http://www.elementalvision.org/nights-with-dark.html), with gay!Dean and always-a-woman!Castiel. This isn’t quite a sequel, and the timing is a little borked to be in the same ’verse, but it’s in the same neighborhood, so I’m calling it good.

The night Dean decided Cassie wasn’t going to die a virgin, not if he could help it, was also the night he finally admitted he wasn’t quite as bent as he thought he was. But when he made his vow, he’d meant he would take her to a bar to find someone who might give her a good ride. That was all, nothing more.

He explained this to her in the car, offering to help her sex herself up a little with makeup and a different way to do her hair. She stared at him until he pointed out that he’d slept with a few hairstylists over the years and had possibly picked up a few hair and makeup tricks as a result.

He left it at that, because there was no way he was going to explain that month with Paul, who’d told Dean there were women who would cheerfully sell their soul to have Dean’s cheekbones and eyelashes. Paul liked to put makeup on Dean to show him just how good he could look, which yeah. Okay. Dean could see the point if he had the time and didn’t have anyone trying to lecture Dean on safe sex whenever they hit a town with a population large enough to support a gay bar. Dean also didn’t mention that Paul was the one who introduced Dean to the joys of wearing women’s underwear. At that moment, he realized he missed the feel of satin against his cock and freshly shaven balls, and he promised himself that as soon as the apocalypse was over, he was going to take care of that.

Anyway, Cassie nodded, like she didn’t already know every last detail about Dean’s life to begin with, and Dean appreciated the effort. He hustled her into the Impala and when they got to the town’s main drag, he stopped at a drugstore to lift a tube of mascara and some eyeliner. He didn’t bother with blush or foundation, because Cassie’s skin was clear and perfect with natural color on her cheeks, and she didn’t need anything to make her face look better. She really didn’t need the mascara or eyeliner, either, but if Paul had taught Dean anything, it was that a little help in the right place could go a long way toward enhancing what was already there.

It was still light out when they landed at a roadhouse on the other side of town, so after they got out of the car, Dean told Cassie to stand still and wait for him to do a little magic.

“Real magic?” She sounded alarmed.

“No. Jesus. It’s just an expression.”

The black eyeliner was liquid, which suited Dean just fine. He’d spent years learning how to draw a clean line on some of the worst surfaces there were, so he figured an eyelid would be a piece of cake. It was, and Cassie did good by standing with her eyes closed while Dean blew gently on her eyelids to make the shit dry more quickly.

When he told her to open her eyes, Dean’s breath caught in his throat, because Christ, she had an intense stare. Like always, it was enough to make him question his conviction that he was gay, and like always, he stuffed the question right back down so he didn’t have to think about it. He had enough shit going on in his life without having to deal with _that_ crisis on top of everything else.

“Uh —” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You gotta look up now, and try not to blink too much.”

It was clearly a stupid thing to say, because Cassie could stare without blinking for long enough to make Dean’s eyes start watering in sympathy. He finished with the mascara as quickly as he could and told her to start blinking again. She did, but she continued to stare at Dean, like maybe she was trying to figure out something. He nudged her away from the passenger door and opened it long enough to toss the eyeliner and mascara into the back seat.

“Okay,” he said, trying to sound upbeat and positive and all that girly shit Sam was so fond of. “Here’s the plan. We go in, you stand at the bar next to a guy you might be interested in, and then you smile at him.”

Dean paused at that, because he honestly couldn’t remember ever seeing her smile, and asked, “You know how to smile, right?”

She frowned a little at the question, and then she tried to arrange her mouth the right way. Dean stared in horrified fascination, because really? Her smile was creepier than a serial killer’s, and that was being kind.

“Stop. Don’t do that.”

“I did it wrong?” She looked kind of hurt, and Dean thought it was really unfair that she could twist him up inside without even trying.

“You’re just — it’s not you,” he said. His cheeks burned at the lame excuse, but she seemed to buy it, so he stopped worrying about it. “Come on. Let’s get inside. It’s kind of early, but you never know. There might be someone.”

“Very well,” she said, and for the first time since he’d met her, Cassie seemed to drag her feet a little.

“Hey, come on. It’ll be fine. Sex is good. You’ll enjoy it.” She shrugged, a small movement barely noticeable in the dusk, and Dean kept walking and tried to convince himself it wasn’t his problem. At the door, he stopped her from going in right away. Instead, he tugged off that blue scarf she always had tied around her neck and opened the first three buttons of her blouse. After a moment, he buttoned up the lowest one and forced himself not to rebutton the other two. The point was, after all, for her to advertise, and to that end, he pulled her hair out of its bun and fluffed it around her shoulders.

God, it was smooth, and it felt like pure silk on his hands. He wondered briefly if Jamie Novak, when she’d still been alive and in possession of her own body, had ever had hair this soft or if it was all down to Cassie being in the house and taking care of things. The strands slipped between his fingers, almost like they couldn’t be held by a mere human, and he made a game of trying to capture and hold them. Her hair really did have a life of its own, and it was almost as contrary as Cassie was, which kind of made sense, when he thought about it.

“Dean.”

He raised his hands to her scalp and scratched lightly. Dean told himself it was so he could give her hair a little more life, but the truth was that now that he was touching Cassie, he couldn’t seem to stop, didn’t want to stop. Most of the time, being around her was like being around lightning in a bottle, and touching her only seemed to intensify that feeling. But it was more than that. Touching Cassie was like touching sunlight and feeling clean for the first time in more years than he could remember. He leaned in closer to try and catch a better whiff of her scent, and when he did, when that hint of ozone and wind and life itself hit the back of his nose, he couldn’t stop himself from getting even closer.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cassie?” He thought maybe she was going to tell him to stop nuzzling her, and he kind of hoped she would, and that she’d put some mojo into her words, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop otherwise. On the other hand, he really hoped she didn’t tell him to stop, because Dean had never backed down from a challenge in his life, and he didn’t want to start with Cassie.

“I apologize.”

“For what?”

“For your constipation,” she said, and the next thing Dean knew, they were back at the old house Dean had found for them to squat in, and Cassie had tilted Dean’s face at just the right angle to be kissed.

Dean wasn’t really into kissing. Mostly, he was into hookups that ended with him and his partner finding a quiet corner to get each other off as quickly as possible. Kissing involved an exchange of bodily fluids that couldn’t be contained by a condom, and it implied hearts and flowers and promises of permanence. Paul was the closest he’d ever come to thinking permanence might even be possible, but even then, they didn’t kiss all that much. They always found better things to do with their lips, and few of them involved swapping spit.

So kissing Cassie was a kind of revelation all its own. She might not have known what she was doing when she started, but her determination was enough to pull them past the awkward decisions about whose nose went where and straight into _Jesus fucking Christ this is hot — so goddamn hot_ territory.

For a moment, Dean froze up, wondering _What the hell am I doing?_ but then Cassie moved her hand around to the back of Dean’s neck, her fingers moving tentatively against his hair, and that was it, Dean was lost to the sparks of want and need racing through his body with a chant of _nownownow_ taking over his mind. A lifetime of knowing exactly what he wanted during sex — hard body, beard stubble, and another dick — was suddenly turned on its head, and Dean should have been having a big, straight freak-out. Instead, he was too busy trying to map out the inside of her mouth to care. He wasn’t usually that rude, but Cassie tasted like something he was sure he should know and remember, yet he couldn’t quite place it.

As it turned out, Dean’s pushiness didn’t much matter, because Cassie, for all that she was wearing a slender woman who looked like she could blow away in a stiff wind, had the kind of strength Dean liked to test himself against. He was sure he could shove and shove at her and not get anywhere she didn’t want him to get. But even though she could break him without too much trouble, Cassie was surprisingly pliant under Dean’s hands. She was also pretty damn aggressive herself, all things considered, and as much as she was relaxing into what Dean was doing to her, she was also trying her damnedest to touch him everywhere at the same time. It wasn’t until he heard his shirt rip that he realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

“Cassie,” he said, drawing away slightly. “Cas —”

It didn’t do him any good, though, because she apparently hadn’t finished with his mouth, and maybe he was okay with that — okay with the way she’d decided she liked to bite down on his lower lip before soothing the hurt away with a swipe of her tongue; okay with the way she breathed in as he breathed out; okay with the way she couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of working with his tongue, because her weird rhythm turned his crank like nothing else. More than that, though, Cassie was mapping out every single one of the hot spots in Dean’s mouth without breaking a sweat, and he was finally starting to believe what she’d told him all those months ago — that God loved him, that he was worthy of being saved.

She tugged at his belt, and Dean groaned into her mouth, “Please. Please, just — just —”

In a low voice, she said, “I don’t understand you, Dean. You make me want to think, to make decisions. You make — you make me _want_ , and I don’t understand _want_. I never wanted anything until I pulled you from Hell. I don’t —”

Dean shut her up with another kiss. Fuck if he knew what the hell he was doing either, but what he _did_ know that it was exactly the wrong time to stop and try and figure it out. He was pretty sure the two of them were on the verge of something big, and it wasn’t just because his dick throbbed every time her hands got near it. He thought maybe it had to do with the way they were finally starting to click with each other — like they’d both given up a chunk of who they thought they were in exchange for who they might become.

That was when Cassie got his jeans all the way open and slid her fingers under the waistband of his briefs before stopping cold and looking at him with her big, blue eyes.

“Dean?”

He leaned his forehead against hers so he could look down, because no way in hell was he missing the sight of this. “Yeah, Cassie. Go ahead. I’m good.” She still hesitated, and he asked, “Are you good?”

She went perfectly still in a way that reminded Dean once again that despite appearances, Cassie was about as far from human as anything he’d ever met.

“I’m good,” she said, tugging his waistband down just enough to expose the top of his dick. She brushed her thumb across the slit, and that was all it took to make Dean lose what little control he had left.

He groaned out her name when her tentative touches turned into light strokes, because it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. The men he’d been with knew how to handle a dick, no surprise there, but Cassie treated Dean’s dick like it was made of fragile glass, and what should have been the worst kind of tease stoked him up even more.

Dean wanted to free his dick up so she’d have room to work him, but he was more interested in seeing what she had under that suit of hers. He spared a brief thought for Jamie Novak, gone since Raphael smote Cassie, and sent a quiet thank you her way for saying yes to Castiel, and then he finished unbuttoning the rest of Cassie’s blouse. She wore a plain white bra that was designed to support, not entice, so it didn’t make a whole lot of sense that Dean very nearly came from the sight of her tits locked in a cotton prison.

He ran the back of his fingers along the front of her breast, right about where he thought her nipple might be, and it turned out to be his lucky day. Cassie gasped as her nipple perked up under the attention, and Dean bent her back far enough so that he could start mouthing at it through the bra.

“Dean — I — please!”

He left off what he was doing and said, “You still okay?”

Cassie glared at him and asked, “Why did you stop?”

“Sorry,” he said, before starting again.

The freak-out was still lurking in the back of his head, but it was a little farther away than it had been. Cassie was enjoying herself for the first time in who knew when, and Dean was responsible for the good feelings she had. It was enough to make him feel a little drunk and a lot more interested in seeing what she looked like without the bra.

She protested when he stopped again, but when she realized he was trying to undress her further, she said, “I can take care of this.”

“Don’t you dare. I mean it, Cassie. You mojo away our clothes, and this stops right now.” He really hoped she didn’t call him on that, because he wasn’t sure he _could_ stop unless she told him to.

“But it would be faster.” The hint of a whine in her voice was music to Dean’s ears.

“And we’d both lose out on the chance for the slow reveal.”

Once again, Cassie didn’t point out that as far as Dean’s body was concerned, there was no mystery left for her. She nodded, though, and allowed Dean to handle it his way.

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a quick kiss and he pushed her blouse, jacket and trench coat off in one go.

“What happened to the slow reveal?”

“Your bra’s still on, isn’t it?”

And okay, it didn’t take long for that to not be true, but it did take longer than Dean expected, because he’d never had to figure out how to open up a bra. Cassie wasn’t any help, and even though her face was as solemn as always, he had the feeling she was laughing at him while he messed around with the hooks — four of them — in the back. He managed, finally, to get everything undone without bending the hooks too badly, and in the process, he developed a newfound respect for Sam’s manual dexterity.

He stood there for a moment, staring down at the way Cassie’s tits sagged a little without the bra to hold them up, and then he carefully moved the straps down her arms. Other than a sharply drawn breath, she didn’t really react, which was okay, because Dean was reacting enough for the both of them. It was kind of stupid that he had only just figured out that boobs were a big turn-on for him, but to be fair, up until he saw Cassie’s, he’d always been distracted by asses and the question of whether a well-formed ass was a good way to tell if a guy had a nice-sized dick (one had nothing to do with the other, but Dean always had fun trying to prove his point).

“Oh man,” he said softly, reaching for her breasts with both hands. He didn’t grab them, but he did caress them and then held them up to get a sense of their weight. He brushed against a nipple with his thumb, and yeah, Cassie sure as hell liked that.

“Dean, please,” she said, and he took that for the invitation it was and bent her back again so he could taste her without the cotton getting in the way. It was pretty awesome, seeing how into it she was, how responsive. Most of the guys Dean had been with didn’t really react to nipple play — hell, Dean didn’t either — so even though he knew women were more sensitive there, it was something else to see it for himself.

Cassie was moaning even more, and it occurred to Dean that she probably didn’t have a clue about what to do to speed things along. He wasn’t sure he knew much more, but he figured getting them both all the way naked would probably help a little.

She whimpered when he stopped again, but he quieted her with, “Just going to get the rest of our stuff off.”

The number of layers she had on — skirt, slip, panty hose, and panties — was a little daunting, but Dean got all of them off with only one or two small problems (he never realized just how fragile nylons were when it came to thumbs). Cassie was patient through most of it, but as soon as Dean got her naked, she made his clothing disappear.

“I don’t need the slow reveal,” she said, when he glared at her.

“Yeah, fine, but —”

“Now, Dean.”

Dean spared a thought for the apparently non-existent “patience of angels,” and then he maneuvered the two of them toward his sleeping bag. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but if Cassie wanted anything more, she could whip up a bed for them. Since a bed didn’t magically appear, and since Cassie was, if anything, even more impatient, Dean didn’t worry about it.

Instead, he started mapping out her soft curves and adjusting to skin that was far smoother than he was used to. He figured he was going to hit a point where he started freaking out over the lack of dick, but after a minute or two of figuring out what turned Cassie’s crank — everything, it seemed — he began to wonder if his freak-out would be over the _lack_ of a freak-out. Seriously, he was going against a lifetime of —

“Dean.”

— knowing exactly what got him going, but —

“Dean.”

— this? Suddenly, he was into pussy? Christ. Had Cassie put him back together —

“Dean.”

— wrong? Had she screwed up some —

“Dean!” She grabbed him by his ears, which hurt but was kind of hot all the same, and said, “Stop. Stop thinking so hard. You are as you were before you died.”

“But —”

“We have a bond,” she said. “It is profound and deep, and it stems from the time we spent together as we escaped Hell.”

“A bond?”

“Yes.” She touched his forehead, his cheek, his mouth. “It is as it should be between us, but if you don’t wish to —”

He didn’t let her finish. For all the confusion he felt, he was certain of one thing, and that was that he wanted this. So Dean kissed Cassie, wincing a little as their teeth hit hard and backing off enough to give them both a chance to get back to where they were before he messed things up. Cassie was on board with that plan, and Christ, if anything, it was even better than when they started. She might not have had any direct experience, but she sure as hell was a fast learner, and she was getting to the point where she was going to start teaching Dean a thing or two.

Before that could happen, though, he wanted to teach her about the rest of the body she owned and shifted his hand enough to be able to cup her breast and brush his thumb across her nipple. Just like before, her reaction was sharp and immediate, and he managed to tease a “Please!” out of her before moving his hand down between her legs.

He thought she was going to fight him on this, and he said, “Got something better in mind. Hold on.”

Dean’s experience with a woman’s clit was limited to the two seconds his finger had been on Cassie’s, but he knew a few things from listening to Jo bitch one night about ham-handed assholes who didn’t seem to get that a clit wasn’t a dick and couldn’t be treated like one. He was comfortable and well fed after a good hunt and well on his way to drunk by the time she started, which was the only explanation he had for why he ended up listening to her list of complaints. Those included ragged finger nails, jabbing, and a general lack of awareness of how to arouse a woman and make her happy. He might have forgotten all of it, except the next day, when he mentioned the bitch session to Sam, he made Dean rehash everything he could remember from Jo’s rant. About a half hour later, a light bulb went on, and Dean asked, “Are you seriously asking me for pointers on how to jack off a woman?” At that Sam sank back into the passenger seat and sulked all the way to Chicago.

The point was that even though Dean didn’t have practical experience, he had a lot of theory, most of which boiled down to, “Start gentle and be prepared to back off.” The “start gentle” part went off without a hitch, but not so much the “back off” part. It seemed like the thing to do when Cassie made some pretty freaking high-pitched noises and a transformer in the back yard started popping and sending off sparks, yet when he eased his hand away, she closed her thighs tight and glared at him.

“Don’t stop.”

“But —”

“Dean.”

Dean’s survival instinct had taken a fatal blow somewhere along the line, because instead of being afraid of an angel’s wrath, like any sensible person would be, he found himself getting even harder and wanting to fuck into her _rightthehellnow_. He didn’t, though, because as much as he wanted to, Dean wasn’t the kind of asshole who was willing to fuck his partner before getting them off. Sure, she could pop more than a few times, but it was the principle of the thing.

So he grunted a little as he tried to move his hand back into position and said, “Got it. Not stopping.”

She eased off, and Dean started doing what he’d been doing before. It was pretty amazing, watching her fall apart just because of what he was doing, and after a few minutes, it was also clear that he wasn’t doing enough for her. He pressed down a little harder, and yeah. That was doing it. She started rolling her hips some, and that seemed to be even better for her, though she still wasn’t going off the way he thought she would.

Dean thought maybe some encouragement was in order. “That’s it, sweetheart. Keep going. I can see you’re ready, but you just need to let go. That’s all. Show me you can, show me just how much you want this.” He eased a finger into her, and god, she was wet. So fucking wet, and he wanted to sink into her heat, but he couldn’t, not until — “Come on. Come on, baby, come on, Castiel —”

As soon as he said her name, she went off like the comet Jamie had once described, dragging Dean right along behind her. When he thought about it later, he figured he was pretty damn lucky she hadn’t broken his arm, but in the moment, he was too caught up in watching her fall to pieces while she came. Her orgasm lasted a hell of a lot longer than anything he was used to, and it was all he could do to keep his own in check. Finally, though, she calmed down, and after a moment, she closed her eyes. As much as Dean wanted to get on with the rest of the show, he was kind of glad of the fact that he had a breather. He wasn’t sure he could handle the next —

“Again.” While he’d been off in his own world, she’d recovered, and Dean had a moment to wonder if maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Then she flipped him onto his back, and when she straddled him, he _knew_ he’d bitten off more than he could chew. “Dean, again. Only this time, I want your penis —”

“Dick,” he corrected, even as he grabbed the base of it to hold it steady and not shoot before she had a chance to get what she wanted.

“— dick inside my —” She cocked her head and waited for Dean to supply the word.

“Uh, pussy, I guess.” Not that he knew much beyond the bit of straight porn dialogue he’d occasionally run across. Sam was a complete prude when it came to talking about what he liked to do with women, and Dean never pressed, because honestly? He didn’t give a shit, anymore than Sam gave a shit about what Dean liked to do with men.

“— pussy,” she finished. She stared at him and waited.

Dean was all for that plan except for one tiny detail that hand him bending his dick back toward his belly before Cassie could get what she wanted. He looked around for his jeans and said, “Condom.”

“No.” And calm as anything, she slapped Dean’s hand away from his dick to position it where she wanted it.

“Damn it!” He would have grabbed his dick back, but he wasn’t entirely certain the attempt wouldn’t end in blood (his) and tears (his again).

“Condoms are for the prevention of disease and pregnancy,” she said, lowering herself onto Dean’s dick, and fuck if he’d ever felt anything like that before. “We are both free of disease, and with Jamie gone, this body is no longer fertile. A condom is unnecessary.”

She sank down all the way, and Dean, who was used to a much tighter fit with a layer of latex between him and his partner, went nuts at the feel of skin on skin, and enough pressure to keep him going without making him want to come right away. That was great and all, but it wasn’t enough, because she just sat there, frowning at Dean and looking confused.

“Move, Cassie. We have to move.” He took her by the hips and lifted her up a little, and then, as he eased her down, he pushed his hips up. “Got it?”

“Yes,” she said. “I believe I do.”

Dean had just enough time to think that Cassie was a quick study before he lost track of every thought in his head and could only process the sensation of Cassie riding him like there was no tomorrow. He reached up to play with her breasts and roll her nipples around, and she arched into his touch, moaning loudly, but not loud enough to cover the sound of a second transformer blowing. It had to have been a bigger one, because the flash was enough to light up the room for a second.

Dean didn’t care.

He moved one hand between her legs again, and hey! Turned out that the second time around, it didn’t take that much to get Cassie off — a couple of hard brushes to her clit, and she was clenching his dick as tight as anything he’d ever felt. It was just this side of too painful, and it was enough to make him come hard, well before he’d planned to.

Dean would have offered an apology, but he was still hard, and Cassie was still riding him like there was no tomorrow, which, yeah. Maybe there wouldn’t be after she talked to Raphael. Before he could start fretting about that, she bent down to get her hands under his shoulders, and she pulled him into a sitting position, a move he figured was pretty much impossible without an angel in the equation.

It didn’t matter, though, because he was perfectly happy to have a lapful of Cassie. They were close enough now that he could start tasting her skin again and getting lost in just how sweet she was against his tongue. He could feel another orgasm building, slower this time, and maybe it was even slow enough for him to be able to enjoy it instead of feeling like it had been yanked right out of him.

They took their time with each other, and Dean taught her how to find his hot spots the human way, by trial and error. She went along with his idea, and with each touch, each caress, each kiss, Dean slowly came to realize that no matter who he knew he was before she came into his life, he was also this: a man who was willing to be with a woman, as long as she was an angel named Castiel. It was a hell of a thing to figure out at his age, but he couldn’t complain, not without sounding like a complete hypocrite, considering what he’d done for a few straight guys back in the day.

On top of that, it was easy with Cassie, easy in a way that it wasn’t with guys, though Dean was pretty sure that said more about his own inability to connect than it said about men in general. Except for Paul, Dean had never been willing to hang around or let anyone in, and in his more honest moments, he admitted that he hadn’t let Paul in all that deep to begin with.

Cassie, on the other hand, had seen him at his absolute worse, both in Hell and out, and she hadn’t hit the road when she should have. She was still here, still going along with Dean’s insane ideas even when she thought they were doomed to failure, and no matter what else might happen, he was grateful for that and shuddered at the intensity of just how much he felt at the moment.

“Dean,” she said as he held her more tightly, his name sounding like a prayer. “Dean.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and said, “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. I promise.”

Dean eased her back, then, and started moving harder and with more certainty than he actually felt. He wasn’t sure how much his own confidence mattered, since Cassie was happy with everything he did, but Dean wanted this to mean something to her, wanted her to know that it meant something to him. He wanted her to have this to bolster her when she met Raphael the next day. He wanted — he wanted —

“I know,” she whispered. “And it means something to me, too.”

In the end, that was all it took for the both of them, and after Dean came, he dropped down on her, wanting nothing more than to sleep the rest of the night.

“It’s all right,” she said, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Dean took her at her word, and for the first time in months, he thought he might be able to sleep the night through without the help of Jack or Jim. He was pretty sure he had a big, straight freak-out due, but that was later. In the meantime, Cassie was warm and soft, and Dean was exhausted.


End file.
